


Downhill Jam

by wyntera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, McHanzo Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:48:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: McHanzo Week Day 1 Prompt: First Time
It's a long way down but I think we'll make it together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> How do people even write short things? This is so foreign to me. Hope you like it!

It takes all of McCree’s willpower not to say ‘I told you so.’

He said before they left that taking the road was a bad idea. No less than five times to at least nine different people, if he recalls. The weather report was sketchy at best with only one road out of town over a winding mountain range, but no. No, it would be fine, they said. An easy mission, they said. In-and-out, nothing to worry about, be more optimistic, they said.

The only reason he does not say ‘I told you so,’ is because Mei was already pouting pretty hard yesterday about being wrong, and she is one of the few he tries not to tease too much. She is just too adorable for it. Zarya’s protective and overbearing gaze does a good job of discouraging that sort of thing as well.

The mission is a resounding thud of nothing, false intel leading them on a wild goose chase, and by the time they figure out that Talon has probably moved to warmer climates for the winter it is too late to leave. The snowstorm moves in swiftly and there is no chance to call for an air transport. It leaves the team stranded in this little town in Nowhere Norway until the mountains are passable, which might take a few days considering how isolated they are.

By day two the storm has gentled to overcast skies and slowly drifting snow, and Zarya decides they need to get out and enjoy the weather. A lofty statement from someone who has spent her whole life in Siberia.

“Stop being such grump,” Zarya intones, giving McCree’s back a hearty slap as she tromps by in her massive boots. She looks far too cheerful in all this cold. “It will be fun!”

“Hard to have fun when you can’t feel your feet,” McCree replies irritatedly, then glances over when he feels Hanzo’s glare on the side of his head. “Sorry, bad choice’a words.”

“Do you need another pair of socks? It never hurts to double up,” Mei says, pulling out another pair of colorfully decorated socks from the bag on the floor. She seems to have an endless supply shoved in there. These are hot pink and black-striped and are tossed at McCree’s face so he has no choice but to catch them. As he grudgingly tugs off his boots to put these on--over the bright yellow duckie socks--she adds, “And you need to wear something other than your hat.”

McCree automatically looks affronted. “Why?”

“Because it not warm enough for head,” Zarya states, plucking it from McCree’s head and holding it high enough that he can’t snatch it back. “Angela not be happy if you go back sick or dead. We have...ah...what call these hat?”

“Toboggan,” Mei supplies, handing McCree one in knitted green. It makes the red strands in his hair stand out sharply and the uneven cut stick out in every direction.

“Lena ain’t wearin’ a hat,” McCree complains.

“Cause she hasn’t put it on yet!” Lúcio says, plopping a ridiculously fluffy hat on the brunette’s head. It has pompoms and tassels.

Between the hat, everyone vetoing his serape for not being effective, and the poofy coat they forced him into, McCree is about as unhappy as a cat in a bathtub.

Hanzo looks much more comfortable in his skin even if it is the most covered McCree has ever seen him. Seems he anticipated the cold at least a little more than McCree did, bringing along sweaters and coats that fit his broad shoulders and slim waist and are not garish colors but sensible grays and blues. His gloves are expensive, slender compared to the cheap ones shoved on McCree’s own fingers. And the hair he usually wears up is now curling in long black strands down around the cut of his jaw thanks to the stylish winter hat pulled down over his ears.

He is achingly, effortlessly attractive, something McCree has been doing his very best to ignore for months now.

As prepared as he is though, Hanzo looks about as happy as McCree going out in the cold. “Is this really necessary?” Hanzo asks as the group trudges out the door one by one. “I thought we were trying to keep out of the cold.”

“We never get to just have fun as a group anymore,” Lena says, wincing at the strong nip of cold and fussing with the top button of her coat. “Things have been so busy. Besides, it never snows in Gibraltar! We should savor it!”

“We could savor it from the comfort of the cabin,” McCree mumbles.

“We can do that later,” Zarya says, leading them around the side of their rented cabin to a shed. Since they have nothing else to do and most of the town is shut down from the storm, the group splurged and rented a nicer place instead of the usual bare-minimum facilities they stick with on missions. This cabin came with amenities like a stone fireplace, multiple bedrooms, a full kitchen, and a slew of winter-related outdoor equipment.

The Russian pulls two sleds from inside the building that are big enough to hold more than one person, and one circular saucer sled. “We have to share,” she says, handing the smallest one to Lúcio to hold. The rope lead of one of the bigger wooden ones is shoved into McCree’s hands while Zarya holds the other and relocks the door.

“Oh, I don’t want--”

“Where are we headed?” Lena asks, interrupting McCree.

“Up that hill.” Zarya points at the intimidating slope a short walk from the house. There are tall pines dotting the snow but a large expanse where sledding should be safe.

Lúcio lets out a low whistle. “You wouldn’t happen to have a snowmobile in that shed, would you?”

\---

“Wow, look at that view!” Lena gasps. From their position on the slope they can see the valley below, little plumes of smoke drifting up in columns from all the chimneys in the tiny town. Beyond that is miles and miles of snow-covered evergreen. She elbows McCree. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

He cannot really argue that point. “It is a mighty fine view,” he admits. All of them are a little taken aback by the splendor of it. They see plenty of picturesque scenery traveling the world, but it takes on a special serene quality when there is no gunfire to be running from.

“This at least was worth the hike,” Hanzo mumbles, low enough with the wind that only McCree picks it up. They share a smirk at that, Hanzo putting a hand out to steady himself on McCree’s shoulder when his weight shifts and he nearly slides. The normally graceful archer has been reaching out for support most of the walk up the mountain, the uneven terrain hidden by the layer of snow making him trip more than once. McCree has made sure to stick close and always offer a helpful hand.

“Okay, so who wants to ride with who?” Zarya asks, setting her sled down and adjusting it so it is pointed back down the way they came. 

“I want to ride with you!” Mei cheers, hooking her arm around Zarya’s and holding on. “Lena, you can ride with us!”

“Da, there is room.”

Lúcio drops the disk sled down then has to lunge to grab it so it does not slide down the hill without him. “Guess I’ll take this little guy. Bet he’s fast!”

McCree and Hanzo, realizing that leaves the one sled between the two of them, both immediately shake their heads. “I ain’t sledding,” McCree says, just as Hanzo blurts, “No, thank you.”

They get leveled with four frowning looks. “What do you mean, you’re not sledding?” Lena asks, hands going to her hips.

“I’m just...here to watch,” McCree say, taking a step back as if to emphasize his decision to not participate. It brings him shoulder-to-shoulder with Hanzo, who has crossed his arms defensively across his chest.

“Yes, I am here to keep you company since you insisted, but I am not going down on that...thing.”

“Yeah, me and Hanzo can just watch, you guys don’t even have to share now.”

“No way!” Lúcio argues. “You came all the way up here, you ought to have fun, too!”

“I am having plenty of fun,” Hanzo counters, a stubborn lilt to his voice.

“You’re being sour grapes is what you are,” Lena huffs. “You’ve both been fussy the whole day. It’s like a mini-vacation! Loosen up!”

“Yeah, what gives? McCree, I thought it snowed in Santa Fe. Shouldn’t you be used to snow?” McCree glares hard at that and Lúcio holds up his hands palm up. “Okay, okay, you don’t like the winter weather, fine, but it’s not like we’re working! What’s the deal?”

McCree and Hanzo both look reluctantly at everything that is not their friends for a moment, not sure who should say what of if they should say anything at all. Unable to not answer and supposing there is no use in hiding it now, McCree says, “I ain’t never been sledding before.”

Lena blinks. “What? Really?”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Ain’t never had this much snow at once, and we lived in the city. I don’t know how.”

“Neither do I,” Hanzo admits quietly, and suddenly five sets of eyes are on him. “We never had the opportunity when I was younger, and it seemed...childish.”

It is a rare moment of vulnerability from the two normally secure and sturdy agents, and the seconds of silence tick by longer and longer threatening to turn the outing dark and depressing. Mei steps forward with a ridiculously bright smile on her face and snags them each by an arm. “That’s fine! It’s never too late to learn!”

“Da! We can teach you!” Zarya exclaims, catching on. “You can learn together!”

“Uh, wait--”

“I am not sure we should--”

“We’ll show you!” Lena says, grabbing the last sled and getting it positioned.

The impromptu lesson on sledding is haphazard at best and filled with conflicting advice on how to steer, how to lean their weight, and how to stop. It leaves McCree even more confused than before and just as adamant that this is a bad idea. That does not seem to deter them in the least.

“Alright! Alright, that’s enough!” McCree finally snaps, shaking Zarya off when she tries to forcibly put him on the sled. “I think we get the gist of it.”

Mei bites her lip. “Maybe they could try on a smaller hill--”

“Perhaps you all should start without us. It will take a while for you to get back up the hill, yes? We will...discuss it,” Hanzo reasons.

“Are you sure?” Lena asks.

“Yeah, ‘sides, ya learn better by doin’, right? Go on, we’ll be fine.”

The four look reluctant, but only for the moment. They did come up here to have fun, after all, and if McCree and Hanzo want to be difficult they can do so together. So it is not long before the other two sleds are taking off down the hill, Mei’s high pitched scream fading with them.

“We don’t have to do this if you ain’t up for it,” McCree says as soon as they are gone, turning to Hanzo. “We can just walk back down.”

“Is that what you want?” Hanzo asks, and something in his tone snags in McCree’s mind and he focuses on the archer. He keeps avoiding McCree’s gaze, and he is not sure why.

“Why, you interested?”

Hanzo bites his lip. “They are having fun.”

“Yeah, I s’pose they are.”

“And it would be a shame to disappoint them when they are just trying to help.”

McCree raises an eyebrow. “You wanna go?”

“Not if you do not wish to ride with me,” Hanzo replies, glancing at McCree then down the hill again.

“Now, I never said that.” It occurs to him that maybe he has been putting out the wrong signal here. “Just makes me nervous, is all. They’re goin’ awful fast with nothin’ but a layer of powdered water to protect ‘em when they hit bottom.”

“You have jumped from a moving train,” Hanzo points out.

“Trains are on tracks!” He waves his hand. “It don’t matter, I’m just bein’ stupid. Now, you wanna go? Cause we can go.”

Hanzo’s cheeks turn inexplicably rosier, and McCree wishes he could tell if it was from the wind or something else. “It would be nice to say we have done it, at least once.”

Well, that’s a turn of phrase that sets McCree’s blood pumping. There may be an unforeseen benefit to sledding if he gets to ride with Hanzo. “You want to be in the front or the back?”

Hanzo smirks, finally meeting McCree’s eyes. “If you think I am letting you steer, you are sorely mistaken,” he intones, throwing his leg over the wooden slats and kneeling down to sit on the front half of the sled.

It is not a small sled but they are also not small people, so McCree knows it will be a tight fit. It takes a few minutes of arranging then rearranging limbs before finding the most comfortable position, McCree’s longer legs along the outside of Hanzo’s and McCree practically embracing Hanzo from behind. He grips the metal holders on the side instead, acutely aware of the heat emanating from Hanzo’s body between his thighs. 

“Are you on?” Hanzo asks, taking up the rope handles in his hands and testing the strength needed to pull left and right.

“Yeah, I’m on. You sure you got this? I’d rather not end up in a dozen pieces against a rock.”

“It is simply left and right; children can do this, it cannot be that hard.”

“Yeah, sure, I bet it’s like riding a bike, right?” That statement is met with silence and it takes a moment for McCree to connect the dots. He leans forward, his beard brushing Hanzo’s shoulder. “No, are you serious?”

“Shut up.”

“How have you never learned to ride a bike?!”

“We were driven everywhere!” Hanzo exclaims, looking over his shoulder at McCree. “The sons of the Shimada Empire were not to be riding around in the open on the streets. It was too dangerous, too easy to have us killed.”

“Shit, you did live a sheltered life, didn’t you?”

“Most people would not call assassin training ‘sheltered.’”

“Darlin’, look who you’re talkin’ to, here.” Mccree gives Hanzo’s hips a light squeeze with his thighs and the other man stiffens slightly, but it gets the desired laugh McCree had been looking for. “What about a motorcycle, you ever driven one of those?”

Hanzo huffs. “No. Genji was the one obsessed with those; I preferred the comfort of a car.”

“Pampered and spoiled,” McCree teases, getting an elbow to the gut for his trouble. He wheezes out, “A joke! It’s a joke! Okay, how about I teach you those other two.”

“You know how to drive a motorcycle?” Hanzo asks, dubious.

“I ran with Deadlock, ‘course I know. We’ll try to get our hands on one and I’ll take you for a ride.”

Hanzo does not look away like McCree thought he would, and is he pushing back a little into McCree’s hold? “I hardly think it is fair, since I do not know how to do this either.”

“Yeah, you’re really inspirin’ confidence that we’re goin’ to live through this. Maybe I should drive.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then maybe you stop delayin’ the inevitable?”

They both look down in front of them, down, down, down the hill. By this point Lena, Lúcio, Mei, and Zarya have only made it about a third of the way back up from their first run, and they still look small in the distance. And the bottom looks much farther away than it did a minute ago.

McCree swallows. “You sure about this?”

“No, but we cannot back out now,” Hanzo says, gripping the rope tight. “Give us a push.”

Sending up a silent prayer that they are not about to die in the stupidest way possible on a mission, McCree reaches back and pushes hard at the ground behind them. It takes a few good tries, but the sled pushes forward just enough to tip and start to slide. Much faster than either of them expected. In that split moment of panic McCree abandons his hold on the sled and wraps his arms around Hanzo’s waist.

Things get a little blurry after that.

McCree is aware of the cold wind half-blinding him and knowing that it is from their speed and not from a gust. Things flying by to either side, including their companions when they shoot past. Losing his hat somewhere along the way. The slick crunch under the blades loud in their ears but not as loud as Hanzo’s shocked laughter mixing with his own. The adrenaline rush of careening down a mountain with only a few wood slats between you and the ground.

It is over in less than a minute, the sled gliding into the sparse woods at the bottom of the hill and slowing to a stop under their combined weight. Hanzo barely even had to steer. Now that the air is no longer whipping at their ears McCree becomes aware he is panting hard for breath. So is Hanzo, back pressed against McCree’s chest. The archer tips his head back onto McCree’s shoulder to suck in much-needed oxygen around the laughs still shaking his body.

Absolutely perfect.

“That was amazing,” Hanzo pants, finally able to get words out. He raises his head and only then seems to be aware that McCree put his arms around him, and have not dropped. He looks back to find McCree is staring at him with an open, awed expression. “McCree?” Then, when that is met with nothing, “Jesse?”

Words flee his mind. The sensible part of him demands he remove his hands and snap out of this, pull away and get to his feet. But he thinks he left the sensible part somewhere back up on the mountain.

He leans forward and presses his lips against Hanzo’s. Just a simple kiss, half-numb from the cold, it could hardly count if not for the way Hanzo’s eyes go wide in shock. McCree pulls back slowly, the adrenaline crashing into him as he realizes what he has just done. He swallows again.

“I-I’m sorry, that was--uh--I shouldn’t have--it don’t have to mean anythin’, I should’a asked--I mean, I shouldn’t a--mmph!”

Mid-babble, Hanzo yanks one of his gloves off with his teeth, buries his hand in McCree’s hair, and yanks him forward to show McCree just how a first kiss should go. And McCree is happy to let Hanzo steer for a while. They warm up quickly, Hanzo twisting as best he can to meet McCree’s open mouth and licking inside. McCree tugs Hanzo as close, letting out a soft groan as Hanzo’s ass pushes up against him. The little noises Hanzo makes in response just spurs him on. When they part for air McCree dives down to lick and nip at Hanzo’s jaw, pushing deeper to get at the lovely column of his throat. Hanzo seems all for it, arching his neck to provide a better angle.

Then he shrieks and shoves McCree away, hand flying to his throat.

“Shit!” McCree huffs, shocked. “I’m sorry, I thought you wanted--”

“Your nose is freezing!” Hanzo gasps, a blush rising high in his cheeks as he rubs the spot where McCree’s cold nose pressed against hot skin.

His nose. Right. “Oh.” They look at each other a moment before smiles slowly dawn on their faces, like the sun rising slowly in winter. Dim but growing stronger and warm enough to melt. “It is awful cold out. We could head back inside and warm up,” he suggests, voice dropping seductively.

His fingers dig gently into Hanzo’s hips, and for a moment he thinks Hanzo will agree. His eyes say he wants to. But the archer shakes his head gently and leans in for another kiss, this one softer but no less warm. A promise. “We have plenty of time for that,” he murmurs. “But we are on vacation. We should savor it.”

“Yeah?” He leans in for one more kiss, to tide him over. Later, he is going to take his time savoring every kiss Hanzo has to offer and then some. With how Hanzo drags his teeth along McCree’s bottom lip as they part, he is pretty sure Hanzo is thinking the same thing.

Dragging the sled back up the hill for another go, Hanzo’s gloved fingers linking with his own, McCree thinks the snow just might be growing on him.


End file.
